by Avell Kro
A distant rumble caught her attention. The sound swelled in volume, surging nearer.
Boom!
Just ahead, a fissure cracked open in the ground and the crevice roared towards the buggy.
She screamed. Not another quake!
The open jaws of the chasm rushed underneath. The buggy lurched at a crazy angle and slid slowly,
yet inexorably, into the gaping hole. Sand and stones shattered onto the roof. Lucilla gasped. She
would be buried alive.
Hiss. Air leaked from a hole in the cabin.
“Jasper,” she yelled, hitting the com in a desperate hope.
Bump!
The floor buckled. She fell from the seat, flung out her arms and crashed against the cabin wall.
Chapter 5
Lucilla woke. She lay on a hard surface, her head ached, and she felt dizzy and battered. A blurry
shape swam into her vision, and resolved into a man’s face bending over her. He had bright blue
eyes and an unruly shock of brown hair. Above his head was an unfamiliar curved metal ceiling
instead of her transparent dome.
“Who are you?” she whispered, blushing at the sight of a live person after four solitary years.
He blinked in surprise, “Jasper from Phobos Station. How are you feeling, Lucilla?” He looked about
her age, and his cheerful expression matched his personality.
Lucilla groaned. He had removed her helmet. She lifted her hand to hide her face. Pain shot up her
arm and she stifled a scream.
He caught her hand in a firm grip. “Careful. Your wrist is broken. Keep still and I’ll bandage the
wrist.”
She covered her scarred face with the other hand, and lay quietly while he wrapped her broken
wrist.
“All done,” he said cheerfully, squeezing her shoulder. “You can look now.”
Lucilla wailed, “No. Don’t look at me.”
“What’s the matter, babe?” His voice was filled with concern.
“My eyes are artificial.” She peeped through her fingers at him, and her heart fluttered at his smile.
Cautiously, she removed her hand, revealing her rainbow colored eyeballs.
His smile brightened, “Your eyes are amazing, Lucilla”
Lucilla tried to sit up, but her head was spinning. “What happened to me?”
“Wait there till you recover,” he said, slipping his arm under her neck and easing her down gently.
“Your buggy was buried by the quake. I came as fast as I could and dug you out of the crevasse.
You’re safe in my shuttle. We’re in low orbit.”
Hyperaware of his arm supporting her neck, she closed her eyes and tried to think despite the
headache. “How did you find me?”
“I fol owed your com signal.” He placed a hand against her forehead. “I’ve run the med scans.
Nothing else is broken, but you must havebashed against the buggy walls. Any aches or pains?”
“My head aches,” she groaned, feeling miserable. “I’m sore all over, and my throat is dry.”
Jasper patted her shoulder. “You’ll be okay, babe. Lie there and I’ll get you a drink.”
She heard him walk away, and listened to the rustles and clinks as he sorted through containers.
Lucilla opened her eyes, and cautiously moved her head to look around. She lay on the floor of a
cabin. It was considerably larger than the cabin of her buggy, with rows of lockers and instruments
arranged on the side walls behind four folded seats. Jasper was mixing something at a shelf. She
admired his lean body in the snug survival suit.
He walked back and smiled at her. “Drink this.” Jasper lifted her head and held a tube filled with
milky liquid to her lips. “Sugar for energy, and meds for the pain.”
After drinking, she waited, supported by his arm as her headache eased. The touch of another
person felt strange after four years alone. Pleasant warmth soaked into her and she relaxed. As her
head cleared, she remembered the awful angels creeping closer to her dome.
Lucilla caught at Jasper’s hand and cried in alarm, “What about Rosalee? The angels could attack
her station.”
“I sent her a warning, and her dome was intact when I flew over on my way to rescue you. She’d
plenty of time to escape.”
Lucilla shook her head, “Rosalee never answers her com on time. She might be deep in an AR sim
and deaf to an urgent message. We have to check on her.”
“No problem, babe,” Jasper grinned. “We’ll start as soon as you feel better. You were unconscious
for almost an hour.”
“I’m okay,” she muttered. But when she tried to walk, her legs wobbled and her head whirled. She
grabbed hold of Jasper’s arm and moaned, “Let me sit down.”
He guided her across the cabin, strapped her into the co-pilot’s seat and fetched her helmet. Then, he took the pilot’s seat and ran his fingers over the controls, maneuvering the shuttle in a shallow
descent towards the planet’s surface.
Lucilla recognized the terrain as they flew over Mars Three. Her damaged home lay below. The two
domes of her living quarters and the greenhouse were tipped at an angle and the contents exposed
to the atmosphere. Green and yellow tendrils covered the domes.
“I’d rather not land unless there’s something important you want to retrieve,” Jasper commented,
his eyes on the forward viewer.
“You have copies of my scientific data, and I don’t think my food and clothes will have survived the
angels.” Lucilla grimaced. “I’ll manage.”
Jasper reassured her, “Food’s not a problem and I can program the printer for your size in clothes.
Let’s fly on and check Rosalee’s station.”
She asked, “Were the angels around when the quake hit my buggy?”
“Some angels followed the buggy into the crevasse.”
Lucilla gasped in dismay, “I hope none of them stuck to your shuttle.”
He glanced at her, “Don’t worry, babe! I can control the little bugs.”
“How?” she asked eagerly.
Changing course to veer north, he explained, “I sprayed a mix of soapy detergent to dissolve their
cel walls. Remember, the angels were designed to be killed easily. The ones on Mars have never
been exposed to the killer mix, so they haven’t evolved a defense.”
She nodded, admiring his ingenuity. “What a good idea. It’s good to know we can land if necessary.”
The white of the northern ice cap rolled onto their horizon. The com signal lit with Mack’s smiley
face icon.
Jasper hit the switch. “Mack, where are you?”
“I’ve got Rosalee. Her dome isn’t safe and she’s joining me on Mars One.” Mack’s voice was high
pitched in excitement. “What about Lucilla?”
“Lucilla is safe with me,” Jasper said. “Will your ice station support two people?”
“Sure, there’s plenty of water to generate oxygen.”
The pink rose sign lit on Lucilla’s com, and Rosalee’s cheerful voice chirped, “Hi, Lucilla. Are you
okay, honey?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Jasper rescued me after my buggy fell into a crevasse during the quake.”
Jasper interrupted, “Lucilla broke her wrist, so I’m taking her to the autodoc on Phobos.”
“What an adventure. It’s better than the sims,” Rosalee exclaimed. “I got your message and was
wondering what to do.Then, Mack zoomed down to my dome and scooped me up. He’s got loads of
space on his station, and I’m going to help with some fun experiments in his lab.”
“What about the angels?”
Lucilla said to the open coms.
Jasper answered, “They’re still generating oxygen, even faster than before. We’l just keep at a safe
distance while we analyze the terraformation.”
Rosalee called, “I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow. I’m getting a tour of Mack’s station.”
“Bye,” Lucilla called, as the coms switched off, leaving silence. She glanced at Jasper, “Rosalee
sounds happy to share Mack’s station.”
Jasper grinned. “She’ll enjoy the change from her virtual reality. Mack’s a great guy. He’s shy with
woman, although Rosalee seems to have broken his reserve.”
He glanced at Lucilla, “Your dome was destroyed by the mutated angels. Unless you want to join
Mack and Rosalee on the ice station, you’re stuck with me on Phobos station until the relief crew
arrives.”
Her heart lightened perceptibly at the warm acceptance in his expression. “I’d like to see your
station.”
His fingers swept over the pilot’s controls and the shuttle swerved on a new course. Turning to
gaze at her, he sang, “Let’s chase the moon, Lu, Lu, Lucilla. One hour to Phobos station, and then
into the autodoc to mend your wrist.”
Lucilla stared at Jasper. He was clever and kind as well as funny. But, would he reject her as Steve
had? She asked, “You’re sure you can live with my swirly colored eyes? Don’t you find them
repulsive?”
Jasper stroked a finger over her cheekbone, “No. I think you’re beautiful. You remind me of Lucy, the girl with kaleidoscope eyes, from the old Beatles’ song.” His brows lowered in a frown, “Did
somebody say your eyes were repulsive? What a jerk! You shouldn’t believe it.”
“We were engaged. He refused to see me after my accident,” Lucilla explained. “It was years ago.
Afterward, I thought no one would ever want to see my face.”
“I understand. Look at me. My hand is artificial.” He held out his right hand, which was constructed
of melded metal and skin-toned carbonite.
She touched his hand. It felt cool and smooth. “Oh, did you have an accident too?”
“Yes.” Jasper said, and raised his eyebrows. “The prosthetic hand works better for some things.
The fingers have chemical sensors so I can identify materials by touch.”
Lucilla agreed, “My artificial eyes are enhanced too. I can sense a broader spectrum of light and
focus at greater ranges than natural eyes.”
He said, “I can see why you chose the pretty icon of the two rainbow spirals.”
She nodded and asked, “Why is your icon a hawk in flight?”
“My family name is Hawkins.”
“You don’t look very hawkish.” Lucilla grinned at his cheerful, freckled face with the dimpled chin
and tousled hair. She was happy to see his real face after years of the hawk icon.
“No,” he admitted. “But, I am a crack pilot. I’ll fly you to the moon, babe.”
She flushed at the warmth in his eyes, and unconsciously she stretched out her arm.
Jasper caught her good hand and pulled her erect. His masculine scent thrilled her. His voice grew
husky, “Look at me, Lucy. Are you disgusted by my prosthetic hand?”
A bright smile blossomed on her face, and she murmured, “No, Jasper.” Her heart thudded as he
leaned over and kissed her. They moved together into an embrace.
Lucilla held him tightly with her good arm, and murmured, “It’s a miracle. It’s been ten years since
I held a man.”
“We can thank the angels for bringing us together,” he said. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Far below the couple embracing in the orbiting shuttle, the green and yellow blotches stained the orange sands while Mars rotated slowly across the viewing screen. The angels were excreting
oxygen to create a new world.
Message from Aurora Springer
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aurora Springer writes science fiction and fantasy with romance and a sprinkle of humor. She lives
in Atlanta with her husband, one dog and two cats. She has imagined wild adventures in exotic
worlds since childhood, but has spent much of her life writing science facts. Unfortunately, her
everyday life bears little resemblance to the exciting tales of her heroes and heroines.
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FORGED IN BLOOD AND LIGHTNING EXCERPT
The Descendants of Thor Trilogy: Book One
S. A. Ashdown
Brooker Press Ltd Copyright © 2017 by S. A.
Ashdown
All rights reserved.
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including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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EXCERPT
From the diary of Julian Knight, Overseer of the Praetoriani, written in code:
5th May 2015
Sometimes it’s necessary to swap the white robes for grey. Malachi De Laurentis has come back to
Hellingstead, and I suspect the Tuscan coven has come with him. The time is ripe. My son,
Menelaus, must not suspect my involvement.
Hellingstead won’t thank me; I’m allowing another blood-drinker into their midst. Blame the Elves
for that; it is their curse.
I feel sorry for the lad, of course. Lorenzo Angelucci, fate has other plans for you now.
Prologue
“STRANGERS THAT DIE TOGETHER…”
5TH MAY 2015
T
he rain was biblical, drowning out the face of Lorenzo’s wristwatch as he squinted, trying to read
the hands between lightning flashes.Damn it. The storm seemed to wind the hours forward to
midnight, lacquering the sky as Lorenzo tucked his dissertation under his arm, the folder already
damp, despite the detour through Oakley Park.
As Lorenzo picked up speed down the slippery pathway, huddling close to the thick line of silver
birch trees, he imagined his professor, Menelaus Knight, waiting in his nice, warm office. Tonight
was his final chance to deliver his dissertation before the exam season started. He couldn’t show up
late, sodden, and without dry text after the third extension. I should’ve brought my laptop, he
thought, I should’ve paid for a taxi.
In the darkness, Lorenzo didn’t spot the boy, slight as a pixie, inhabiting the matted branches of a
looming oak tree that had defied time and foul weather for four centuries. The path forked around
it, leaving Lorenzo to find refuge under its bony branches as the wind reached its apex and rain
shards sliced his cheeks raw. This wasn’t a normal spring storm; the air came in clammy gusts that
left a bitter taste on Lorenzo’s tongue.
Above him, the boy watched, accompanied by the insects hiking over his skin, and the birds
nesting in his black hair. Gold stre
aks burnished his curls – a hint to his creation; he was living
stardust, the first of his kind. His name was Raphael, and he perceived Lorenzo’s immediate fate as
it unravel ed before them both. He could sense in the dull steps against the wet earth that death
was approaching – his creature companions stilled as if waiting for the audible squelch. Each
critter heard it. The sharp fangs sinking into yielding human flesh, the grunts and groaning, and
finally the screaming.
Theo Clemensen woke in a mental twilight, twisted in the covers, having soaked the mattress on his four-poster bed in sweat. In a daze, he peeled off his shirt, exposing his shoulders and chest to
the thick, stuffy air of his bedroom, as if the extreme heat effused from his dreams into real life.
I must get to her. His limbs thrashed wildly but he moved only in his mental world, trapped in an
awful, waking dream. His dead mother rode through the fir-tree copse, vibrant, crimson hair
flailing in the wind like a headful of snakes as he struggled to catch her in time. He’d had this
nightmare before, and it was always too late. She always made it to the cliff’s edge, always
plummeted to her death. But it hadn’t been this violent before, this vivid.
Theo reached the rocky ledge, but this time no spit of waves hissed up from the ocean’s surface.
This time, he met exploding fire, a bubbling cauldron of colour that enthralled him into submission.
On, on, it urged him. Come, come. He stepped forward and plunged into the deep, his body
exploding on impact, his mind melting in the flames. His cry broke through the lava of his dreams
and into reality, shaking the foundations of Hellingstead Hall. The air crackled and popped as his
father, Espen, and his great-uncle, Nikolaj, appeared at his side, wrestling Theo’s limp body from
the sheets.
‘He’s not breathing!’ shouted Espen, as they dragged him onto the oak floorboards.
‘No!’ Nikolaj restrained Espen’s frantic hands as he tried to resuscitate his son. ‘Stop. He has to die
before he can be reborn.’
Part I
The Storm’s Curse
THEO | PENNY | LORENZO
1
REBIRTH